


After The Fall

by Quixotism



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Asgard's relationships are complicated, BAMF Heimdall, Gen, He knows more than he lets on, Heimdall for President
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-31
Updated: 2014-12-31
Packaged: 2018-03-04 13:19:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,217
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3069593
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Quixotism/pseuds/Quixotism
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Heimdall watches the turn of the tide.</p>
            </blockquote>





	After The Fall

_In a city of magic that spins out of time  
Where God has no image and man finds no grace_

There was a sound of thunder. It rang in his ears like a hollow victory, steel swinging in the air. _Victory! Victory!_ Or so the shouting went. A man had conquered a man. The world was now irrevocably changed. It seemed to pay no notice to the man’s victory. It turned its face ever so slightly to the dark.

Heimdall simply watched. There was no judgement in them, only fierce starlight. Victories came and went and it was not his place to be wowed or complacent. At times, the futility of being a watcher stung his core but he had only grown harder with age.

Odin Borson had clapped his shoulder, many bright summers ago, and said, “The Gods have poured molten gold into your eyes. They are worth much, my friend.”

Heimdall replied in the slow, steady cadence of a pendulum, “They are worth only in their use.”

“And how do you plan on using them?” Odin queried.

Heimdall’s look was flat and Odin had the grace to look sheepish.

Odin Borson was not king then, but it seemed likely in the future and neither of them forgot it. Especially not Odin, who was reminded of it every moment the stars burned. 

Heimdall was not guard yet, but his future was assured. Many feared his all-seeing gifts, preferring to keep their distance lest he spotted something . . . unsavoury. 

(He saw anyway, but illusions were not only a sorcerer’s domain)

* * *

Odin All-Father was not a good man.

This, Heimdall knew, without the gift of his sight. Odin was a sterling example of Asgard, with a warrior’s hand and a politician’s voice, he knew when to sway and when to murder. Charity did not come to his mind often, yet he wielded it well. As the scars and blight of wrinkles and age set into his face like a sculptor with a chisel, he turned to the future with gentle arms. He took his wife and made her second in all, but Asgard would not change, even for the All-Father. It turned, as it always did, yet the motions were never felt. 

The ground trembled when Odin brought in the babe from Jotunheim and Heimdall saw in the face of innocents, a great change. He was troubled. 

“Do you think it wise,” Heimdall said cautiously, for it was not his place to advise, only to see and inform, “To bring the son of your defeated enemy into your stronghold?”

“He will not be Laufeyson,” Odin declared and his eyes flashed with a familiar anger. It was an anger Heimdall knew well. He treads on narrow ground with the All-Father, “He will be an Odinson. Surely you do not mean to caution me against a child.”

“Children grow up,” Heimdall had seen it aplenty. The method and the teaching may vary, but all children grow up angry, bitter and resentful. All children are their fathers and more. Odinson indeed.

Odin turned him away. Odin always did so when it was convenient for him. Still, Heimdall respected him and what he saw was not truth, but many truths. He buried his instincts and turned to the stars.

* * *

Loki sat by Heimdall’s feet. 

He was but a century old and the idea of pride and folly had yet to be planted in his fertile soil. He would place himself there, for hours on end until the universe brought tears to his eyes and Heimdall sends him off with a sharp word and his tail between his legs. Yet he always returned, with more questions and thoughts that Heimdall often found his focus veering from the Nine Realms. It was exasperating, he thought, to be so exasperated with a tiny boy.

Still, he grew used to these visits and the incessant questions that followed.

“Surely the Bifrost is not the only path open to us,” Loki argued, “There must be others. How else would the Nine Realms function without Asgard?”

“Don’t be treasonous so early in the morning, Loki,” Heimdall rebuked him gently and Loki’s face flushed in anger, “But you are correct. There are other paths, but they are not my purview.”

“But . . . you see all,” Loki said blankly. 

“I see enough,” Heimdall replied simply, “To see all is to invite the madness of the universe upon me.”

Loki shuffled on his feet. Heimdall allowed himself a grim smile. Loki often does not expect a proper answer to his questions and it surprises him when there are answers. They are neglecting his education in Asgard, he mused, to let him come to this state. To come to me. 

Heimdall was not in the habit of hoping, but he did so anyway, when the little boy-prince came to learn. He hoped he was wrong and proven so before the end. As time passed, Loki appeared less and less until Heimdall was all but forgotten. Another bitter sting among the others, so he turned himself away from the prince and looked to the stars. It was his place.

* * *

He was proven right. 

It was a bitter taste in his mouth, like ice and ash. He never forgot the look on Loki’s face, full of quiet disdain. One by one, the royal family visits him in the quiet, secret hours of the tide. 

“Is he alive?”

“Is he coming home?”

“Is he safe?”

Heimdall had no answers. 

Though, even if he did, he might not have chosen to speak at all. Sometimes, he felt the shadow of prince at his feet and would catch himself looking down. Heimdall had cultivated bad habits. He was responsible for the destruction as much as anyone. Not that he said so to anyone. It was not his place.

* * *

“I miss her,” Thor said quietly, without preamble.

Heimdall turned his honeyed gaze to him. It was not like the Thunder God to share his personal thoughts. It was unlike Odinson and unlike Loki to do so. It surprised him and he showed it. 

Thor’s lips twitched at that, “Does that bother you, Heimdall?”

“Not at all,” Heimdall replied smoothly, “I do not understand why my liege chooses to confide in me such a personal thing.”

(None do, for all are afraid of Heimdall’s all-knowing gaze, afraid of what he sees, afraid of his speech. They are afraid, rationally so.)

“There is no harm in telling you,” Thor said, “And I do not feel ashamed by my feelings.” 

“Of course,” Heimdall said calmly.

“And I believe it helps . . . to know someone who saw and perhaps understood,” Thor continued, turning towards Heimdall. He was trapped by the sheer truth in Thor’s speech. How unlike his father he is, and yet how magnificent that is. A low chuckle rumbled deep in his chest, like the churning of asteroid belts around a planetary body. Thor was perplexed.

“Indeed, my liege,” Heimdall said, “There is no shame.”

(There is no shame in him now. He will watch and he will know. Perhaps that was why Loki and Odin were so lost. They carried their shame close to their hearts. Even Heimdall did so, after a fashion.)

Yet, his heart was lightened by the future and he looked to the stars. Asgard turned in the eventide.


End file.
